


vexilla reges prodeunt inferni

by peppermintquartz



Series: Loki and Thor [11]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dubious Consent, Implied Torture, M/M, Sibling Incest, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintquartz/pseuds/peppermintquartz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Thor reign together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Non-explicit Loki/Thor, modern-AU. Dark(?)

Loki knows the power of desire.

A flutter of lashes, a coy smile, a carefully calculated casual glance... That always draws the mark closer, and then there's the payoff. He's done this so often it doesn't affect him anymore when the mark curls an arm about his slender waist and pulls him close, or when the mark whispers lewd promises in his ear, or when the mark kisses him sloppily. He knows - it's ingrained knowledge - that it's all a show, and the payoff's what matters.

 

Loki knows the power of desire.

He can keep his mark on the edge for hours, begging to be taken or to be released. He can croon sweet nothings until the mark is on his or her knees. He can lash and cut and bind them until they are wrecks, and they will still crawl back to him, begging, begging for more, and then Loki may just reward their devotion. He can do all this without ever removing his clothes, for he knows the power of desire is in the yearning and the craving for more. He knows that desire resides in the head and the heart and the blood - rich and thick and full of life - and desire overrides all logic if given enough fuel.

 

Loki knows the power of desire.

He understands that it is desire that draws him towards the little apartment on the fourth floor. He goes only on Thursdays, and only on Thursdays does Loki acknowledge that he himself is a creature of desire. Delirious and dreamy every time Thursday approaches, he understands that he is destined to come back every week, to enter that little apartment with its thick red drapes and gold-accented furniture. It is lightning singing in his soul and heat pulsing in his veins that pulls him into the room on the right, and there is the heart of his desire.

The tall, blond man will turn to regard him, always sounding a little surprised, as if Loki hasn't been coming here for years and years and years on Thursdays, shedding his clothes as he saunters from main door to bedroom, and will always stand before this man in his completeness. This man will gesture for Loki to come closer only after looking Loki over for signs of hurt or injury, and Loki will always amble over with a calmness he never feels.

He understands that he will always belong to this man. This man with his bright smile and dark blue eyes, the broad shoulders and gentle touches. 

"Terence is gone," says Loki, tilting his face up. They are almost of equal height; the breath of the other man washes over his face, sweet and beer-tainted. "They will not find him until next Friday."

"That's very good news." 

Loki shivers as the man runs a hand along Loki's spine. It is a gentle touch by a hand which has probably broken dozens of backs; it is a tender caress by a hand which has signalled men to open fire on a shipping container full of refugees. It is a hand that has pulled triggers of weapons and been sprayed with hot crimson blood countless times.

It is a hand that can easily kill Loki, and Loki understands that he will give in should it ever happen.

And then Loki closes his eyes and gives in to the delicious madness of passion when the large man pushes him to the bed, looms over him as he has always done. The man will kiss him, and they will make love, and just when Loki thinks he will be driven entirely insane he will hear this man whisper the one word - ( _"brother"_ ) - that drags him back to reality and sanity, enough for Loki to go on one more week playing others' desires against themselves, knowing all the while that his own is a knife angled at his willing throat.

 

Loki knows very well the power of desire.

So does Thor.


	2. Unstoppable

They are confident.

Thor has always known his place in the world. His father, Anton "Odin" Onsdag, has trained Thor since he was eight. Things like fighting techniques and political maneuvering didn't come easily to Thor, who is essentially an honest and fair person, but Thor knows better than to voice out his doubts. Besides, he has Loki with him. 

Loki is all the things Thor isn't. Loki understands how to tweak people's minds; he knows which strings to pull; he observes and exploits their weaknesses. It is second nature to him. But Loki's own weakness wasn't discovered until Thor walked in on his younger sibling in his bedroom one day, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Together they are unstoppable.

 

They are capable.

Thor runs the city. The citizens know it, the police know it, the government knows it, and no one dares to do anything about it. It's not only because of Thor, of course. Loki's grip on the underbelly of the city is iron-tight, and Loki is more than willing to deal with those whom oppose his beloved older brother. It is an open secret that Thor is the face of the organization, while Loki is the hand which wields the dagger and the whip.

 

They are fair. 

Thor is very fair: he controls what he needs so that the city can function as it does. The police knows when to crack cases and when not to, and Thor gives them a quota every month. There is a central government that Thor is not in control of after all, and people have other authorities to answer to. The city council knows to submit their latest suggestions and policies for approval.

Loki occasionally bares a fang or a claw, just to remind them who actually holds the reins. He considers it fair warning.

 

They are honest.

Thor tells those who have disappointed him exactly how he has been disappointed, and what they will have to do so that he isn't disappointed any more. Sometimes he tells them what will be done to them so he won't be disappointed yet again. Thor is never disappointed more than twice in the same person. Loki makes certain of that.

Loki is his other half, Thor tells his people, especially when they are newly-appointed. His secret half, and if Thor's secret half is revealed, then Thor will be... displeased. And the city knows what that means, because Loki has shown them truthfully what it means to make Thor unhappy.

The last idealistic journalist who wanted to expose them had been the example.

The man is still alive, and no longer idealistic nor a journalist. They found him a week after his disappearance in a brightly-lit room, bound to a chair, his mouth sewn shut save for a small aperture for drinking soup, eyelids taped open, and his eardrums... damaged. 

And all over the walls of the tiny, well-lit room are pictures that no father should have to see.

 

They are charismatic.

Thor smiles a lot, a bright, warm grin that is welcoming and friendly and genuine. Despite themselves, people like to gather about him and confide in him. They trust him even if they know it is better not to do so. They can't help it. They fall for him and treat him like a friend.

Loki is the only one who knows what Thor really likes to smile about, and that is why he can command others to kneel for him. And they do.

 

Thor owns the city, and it knows to obey his word.

Loki has trained it to do so.

 

Together they are unstoppable.


	3. Pancakes in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor makes pancakes for Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rather like this AU, but I'm not sure how 'plotty' it's going to be. More like "brief snippets of their lives" kinda thing.

In the glow of the morning sun, Thor studies his brother. 

Loki has always been slender and wiry. He is deceptively strong - most of his opposition made the mistake of underestimating Loki because he is so thin, and none walked away from their misconception - and his lean muscles lend faint definition to his body. 

Yet in the warm sunlight, Loki seems too vulnerable, too thin and far too young. Thor sips his beer and flicks a dark tendril of hair from Loki's brow.

"Thor?" murmurs Loki, turning his face up slightly and smiling sleepily at the older man. "I wasn't expecting you."

Thor smiles in greeting. "You've been missing meals again, Hogun tells me."

"I'm sorry. I was checking a new source and lost track of time. Did you know that in Afghanistan-"

Thor interrupts, "Get up and eat, Loki."

"Mmmph." That was a protest. Loki burrows back into his pillows.

Thor drinks his beer - nothing wrong with beer in the morning, since he's been up from three a.m. - and crushes the can easily. He does not enjoy wine, but he knows Loki doesn't like the smell or taste of beer (except on Thor's tongue) in the house. "I've made pancakes."

"Can't I have pudding? Or maybe chocolate?" whines Loki, the kid brother yet again for all that he is now twenty-nine. "And I really want to sleep in. It's Saturday."

Loki is not given a chance to linger in bed, however, because Thor pulls him out with one hand and marches him to the kitchen. Thor pulls a chair and Loki sits obediently. In front of him is a huge stack of pancakes with chocolate syrup. Loki adds a lot more, painting calorie-laden smears all over the golden, fluffy goodness.

"You'll get diabetes sooner or later," says Thor, planting himself in the facing chair.

"And you'll take care of me then." Loki is completely unrepentant.

Thor smirks. "Banner is working on a cure for diabetes already."

"Going legit, are we?"

"Pharmaceuticals earn well, brother mine."

Loki glances at Thor from under long lashes. "And Earnest Greyham learned well from _you_ , brother mine."

"So he's trying his wings, hmm? Westfield? Or is he testing Nacre?"

Loki shrugs.

Thor smiles. "Would you like to do it?"

"He's not worth my time or effort," says Loki, gesturing for the apple juice imperiously. Thor passes it to him.

"It is worth mine." The blond man sits back and his gaze turns dark with anticipation. "Let's watch Clint and Natasha do it then."

"Both of them?"

"You've been training them. Think of it as an observation. Give them a grade."

The dark-haired man smiles thinly. "They'll pass with flying colours, brother. Nothing they'll like more than showing off to the boss."

Thor laughs, a sincere rumble of mirth, and Loki smirks.

He's caught sight of the pudding on the counter.


	4. Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They thought Loki was the dangerous one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dub-con, underage everything at last part.  
> And Thor isn't always a nice guy.

Loki was five years old when Sif, out of some young child's fancy, decided to kiss him on the cheek.

That was the first time Loki ever saw his beloved older brother lose his temper. The terrifying sight did not scare Loki, however, even though Mother had spanked Thor for punching Sif (to be fair, Sif also bit Thor) and Father punished Thor with no dinner and no going out to play for a week.

That night, after Loki was sent to bed and Mother had come in to kiss him goodnight (somewhat absentmindedly), Loki slipped out of his bedroom and into his brother's across the hallway. 

Thor had been red-eyed and sniffly, but he thanked Loki for the bread roll and apple the younger boy gave him.

"Why did you beat Sif, Thor?" asked Loki softly afterwards, sitting in front of Thor as his eight-year-old brother brushed his dark hair.

Thor stopped. He said, "I didn't like her."

"Why? You said Sif is the prettiest girl in your class." Loki hadn't been happy to hear that, and had cut off the hair of all of Sif's dolls when they went to her house for a playdate. He hadn't been sorry then. He wondered if Thor was sorry now.

"She used to be. Now she's annoying."

"Why?"

"Because she kissed you," said Thor fiercely. "She has girl cooties. She might have given you cooties. I don't want my little brother to have girl cooties."

That made Loki feel happy all over and he twisted around to look at his older brother. "But I don't have girl cooties, right? I've bayved."

"You won't ever have girl cooties," declared Thor and hugged Loki. "I'll protect you."

"But Mother kisses us goodnight." That bothered Loki. "And Mother's a girl."

"Mother's a mother," corrected Thor. "And mothers don't have cooties. They make cooties go away."

"And brothers?" Loki asked hopefully.

Thor brightened. "That's right!" He planted his hands on either side of Loki's head (a little too forcefully and making Loki's ears ring) and pulled Loki's face forward. Then Thor planted a big kiss on each of Loki's cheeks. "Brothers can't give brothers cooties."

Loki smiled and then yawned. He rested his head on Thor's shoulder. "I don't wanna go back to my room. There's a big snake under the bed, and Mother isn't going to want to tuck me in again and the snake will eat me."

"Then I'll tuck you in." Thor patted Loki's hair. "I'm not afraid of big snakes." He was, actually, and Loki knew. He remembered how tightly Thor had held his hand when Father got his friend to take them to the zoo, and they saw the big snake in the glass box.

Instead of saying that Thor was fearful of the big snake, Loki said, "You're not to come out of your room, Thor, Father won't be happy if you did."

Thor sagged. Then he whispered, "Maybe you can stay here instead then?"

"Okay."  

And the next morning, when Frigga found Loki curled up next to Thor in that little cot, she decided to put extra blueberries in their pancakes.

 

 

 

Loki had been twelve when he kissed someone of his own volition. 

It was Christmas, they were at a fancy mansion of one of Father's friends for a party, and Loki had found someone interesting and fascinating to listen and talk to. Thirteen-year-old Charles was funny and a little arrogant, but arrogant in a way that didn't make him annoying, just part of his charm, and he was very, very clever. He had already skipped three grades. He liked to talk about genetics and natural selection and all that, like he knew what he was talking about, and he admired Loki when Loki spoke of the Norse sagas and Shakespeare and the Romantic poets. Loki missed talking with clever people - those in his class preferred to talk about pop music or some silly celebrity gossip. Charles was more fun, and he was kind of cute with chubby cheeks and brilliant blue eyes.

They found themselves holed up in Charles's room, sharing a platter of cold cuts and ham and roast meats taken from the main table, along with some golden liquid that Charles asserted was whiskey. It tasted funny, and there was a strange tingly warmth all over his body. He knew Father was talking with Mr Marko, but Charles's last name was Xavier, so Loki had to ask why that was the case.

"Kurt Marko is my stepfather," said Charles. "My father died three years ago."

He looked so sad that Loki could feel a twinge of sympathy in his heart. He adored his father, and couldn't imagine having to say farewell to him. Without quite knowing how and why, Loki leaned forward and brushed his lips over Charles's cheek.

"Oh." Charles blushed bright red, and that made Loki grin.

The older boy chuckled then and then shifted, so that they could kiss again, and Loki could feel his heart thumping painfully in his ribcage. Charles carefully moved forward, and so did Loki, and when they touched their lips together again it was quite awkward and electrifying and Loki closed his eyes, it was amazing how right this felt-

"Loki!" The door banged open and both boys sprang aside.

Thor rushed in and yanked Loki away from Charles. The bigger boy glared at Charles, and his grip on Loki tightened until it started to hurt.

"Don't touch him," warned Thor thickly. 

Loki tried to pry Thor's hand off. "Let go!"

"Shut up," Thor ordered. He turned back to Charles. "If I see you touch him again, I will throw you down the stairs personally. Don't ever touch him again."

Charles, nervous and frightened, tried to smile. "I didn't mean-"

Thor's foot snapped out and kicked the tumbler of whiskey into the wall beside Charles. A sliver of glass sliced past Charles's cheek and he exclaimed. Before Charles could stand, however, Thor was hunkering down, dragging Loki to a crouch next to him. His other hand was gripping Charles's shirt.

"You brought my brother here with whiskey," hissed Thor. "You're lucky I didn't break your goddamn back, Xavier. Stay away from my brother, you freak."

Thor all but dragged Loki away from Charles's room, never speaking until he shoved Loki into the family car and then ordered the chauffeur to send Loki home.

Loki sported a large, hand-shaped bruise on his left forearm for nearly two weeks. Thor never said he was sorry.

Charles never spoke to Loki again.

 

 

 

Loki was seventeen when he dared to smuggle Tony into his room. Father was out on negotiations, while Mother was at a women's only event downtown (some charity that the mob ran as part of their money-laundering; Loki knew enough to know less). Thor was back at college; Volstagg or Hogun had driven him. So no one was at home. Tony and Loki had been drinking something quite vile - Tony had sneaked it from his father's drinks cabinet - and they were giggling softly while stumbling into Loki's room.

Loki liked Tony. Tony was smart, and sarcastic, and sexy, and smarmy when he wanted to be, and all the 's' words that made Loki laugh and feel hot all over. And Tony had a nice ass too.

"Yours as well, darling," chuckled Tony, and Loki realized that he said all that aloud. 

They kissed sloppily, their two months of dating leading to this moment. Tony had already lost his virginity by seducing some quarterback who graduated last year - Rogers or something - and taken some girls to his bed also. Loki wanted nothing more than to lose his own to this wonderfully imperfect asshole with the beautifully warm grin and delightfully lewd sense of humor.

They shed their clothes gracelessly, tossing tees over the floor and their jeans. Loki was too drunk to be shy, and Tony's heated body was very tempting. They rubbed together, lying side by side on the bed, and Loki mewled when Tony shifted down, kissing all over his belly and then his hips and then Loki cried out, unable to process the wondrous pleasure that Tony was providing with his bloody  _mouth_ , and then he screamed again as Tony did things with his fingers that Loki wasn't quite prepared for.

The door to Loki's room burst open and Thor stormed in. Tony pulled his mouth off Loki's erection and swore, "I thought you said everyone was out-"

"I came home early," snarled Thor, and leveled a punch right into Tony's face. Tony was sent flying across the room and there was a sickening crash when Tony collided into the bureau. Thor, heedless of Loki's dazed protests, grabbed Loki's footstool and, as Tony was getting to his feet, swung it into Tony's side. Tony shouted in agony and collapsed against the wall, sliding to the floor. Thor raised his arms again, about to rain down the rest of the blows.

"Thor!!" Loki screamed and ran up to his older brother, almost tripping over his feet and the tangle of blankets, and grabbed the bulging muscles of his right arm. "Thor, stop! You'll kill him!"

"That's the idea, yes," said Thor furiously. His gaze never left Tony's battered form at his feet. "How dare he!"

Loki dug his fingers into Thor's skin and finally Thor looked at his younger brother. Loki was breathing erratically and then he gritted out, "Leave, Thor. You've hurt him enough."

"No I haven't-"

"He's my boyfriend, fuck you! Get the hell away from him!"

Thor let go of the remains of the stool and turned to grip Loki by his throat instead. "You would threaten me over an outsider?"

Loki was suddenly reminded of how strong Thor was; the blond young man had been recruited as a football star and weightlifting was part of his daily regime. he could feel his vision sparking out along the edges.

Tony's movement distracted Thor and he let Loki drop. Thor pushed Tony up against the ruined wall and snarled, "Don't come here again. Get your clothes and get the fuck out of my house."

"He's hurt, he can't move," Loki rasped. "Get out of my room, Thor, I'll get him to the hospital."

Thor stalked to the door and yelled for their driver to get the car to the door. Loki, crying at the severity of the bruises and cuts all over Tony, helped his boyfriend into his pants and draped the tee over his shoulders. There was no way Tony could raise his hands to put the shirt on.

Hogun was the one who lumbered up and almost caught sight of Loki's nakedness, except that Thor stepped into his line of sight, grabbed Tony, and shoved the injured boy at Volstagg. "Get him to our quack, and send him home safely."

"Got it," said Hogun.

Loki was still shivering with a combination of fear and shock and arousal, and when Thor reached out for him Loki flinched from his touch. Loki turned burning green eyes on his brother. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he spat angrily. "How could you have done that?"

"Because he was about to take you from me," retorted Thor. He did not move from Loki's room. Instead, he slammed the door and locked it. "I will not have anyone take you from me, Loki."

"I don't belong to you!" sceamed Loki. "You - you always do this! Ever since Charles you've always done this! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Thor was impassive, and his eyes swept over Loki: wild and panting and ruddy with adrenaline. 

Loki wet his lips and swiped tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. "I wish I didn't have you as a brother," he whispered.

"Do you truly?" asked Thor, icy and quiet, and if Loki was less overwrought he would have recognized the danger signs. "If you were not my brother, do you think you'll be happy?"

"Better than this! Better than having you poke and pry and interfere every single fucking time I fall in love, better than having you threaten or actually injuring those that I want to date!"

"They aren't good enough for you!"

"Then who is, Thor? Who is? We're not the model American family, in case you hadn't noticed!" Loki was nearly hysterical now, his hands bunched into fists and eyes wide. "Who am I supposed to date, then, when you scare every single one of them off like this! Who am I supposed to love?"

Thor was on Loki before the younger boy understood what was going on, and when Thor held someone they stay held. Loki pushed ineffectually at Thor's shoulders, and when that was futile he started thrashing about. Instead of letting him go, Thor pushed Loki up against the wall and began to kiss him again, insistent and demanding. Thor's lips and teeth and tongue did odd things to Loki's libido, which was now beginning to surge again after that incredible let-down, and when Thor started grinding into Loki the younger boy keened with unexpected desire.

"No one can have you," repeated Thor, and dragged Loki to his bed, throwing him on it. In his somewhat drunken and adrenaline-fuelled haze, Loki decided to slide away from Thor, but the older brother yanked him back, pinning Loki's wrists over his head and holding them there with one meaty hand. With the other he freed his cock from his jeans. Even in his muddled state Loki could see the inherent wrongness of this scenario, and tried to wiggle away, but Thor parted Loki's legs and pressed himself forward, so that his erect cock was brushing against Loki's.

Thor was bracketing Loki entirely, crowding into Loki's sense of personal space, and there was no hint of levity at all in Thor's words. "I will not allow anyone to have you, Loki."

"Thor, brother, we can't-" Loki was unuashamedly pleading now, even as his body was responding to the stroking of their cocks; Thor was holding Loki intimately and Loki's hip were moving of their own accord. It was so good, so good and wrong and perfect, the way Thor touched Loki... "Brother, please, let go.."

"No," breathed Thor heavily, releasing Loki's hands and spreading Loki's knees further. He hooked his arm under Loki's knee and his other hand reached between Loki's legs, behind his jutting cock, and then something circled his rim. "Has anyone taken you?"

When Loki didn't answer immediately, Thor bent and bit hard on Loki's shoulder. He hissed, "Has anyone taken you?"

"No, oh gods, no, no," Loki replied, the pain blossoming wetly over his skin where Thor was now licking. Thor watched with a strange grimace as Loki's hands scrabbled weakly at Thor's broad chest. The older male licked up and around his fingers, but Loki didn't register the action until Thor reached down again and pushed in something - can't be his cock, the huge heated length was much larger than this - and Loki cried out again and again while Thor used his fingers to ready his brother.

"Mine," whispered Thor when he pulled his hand away from Loki. By now all the fight had left the dark-haired teen and Thor grinned down darkly. "You'll always be mine."

With a slow, careful thrust, Thor slowly slid into Loki. The younger male gripped Thor's shoulders which were straining with the effort of keeping Thor from just fucking Loki through the bed with no thought of Loki's condition. Loki's mouth was open, gasping for air that would not come; he felt as though he was being ripped apart; his entire body was like a furnace banked  _inside_ , under his skin, and he could not see, could not see what was around him but Thor, he could feel Thor, oh gods, so much-

Eventually, Thor was buried all the way in Loki. Thor's hand found Loki's flagging erection and coaxed it back to life, and with one look at Loki's blown eyes and gleaming, wet mouth, the coy flush all over milk-white skin, Thor bent to the task of carving himself into Loki. Each thrust was a burning brand, and every time Thor's cock hit his prostate Loki thought he would die from the sheer pain/pleasure, and all the while between them his cock was rubbing over Thor's belly. The friction and Thor's cock drove Loki closer and closer to the brink, and suddenly Loki's fingers sank into the meat of Thor's biceps, his head thrown back as he screamed soundlessly, all breath exiting his body while his hips stutter and then snapped rigid, mindless and devouring all sensation, his body clamping around Thor in a most amazing way.

Thor buried his face into Loki's neck, tongue sweeping up the salty tang of pale skin, his own hips unable to stop or even slow the rhythmic thrusts by then. When his climax came it blinded Thor for a blissfully long moment, even as he spilled into Loki again and again, murmuring nonsense words of endearment ( _brother Loki I love Loki brother mine Loki brother mine mine mine Loki)_ , ignoring the whimpers of the teenager protesting his oversensitivity. Eventually the world returned to them. Thor clung to the thin frame in his arms and drifted from climax to sleep, only remembering to roll to one side when Loki grunted a protest of his weight.

It was warm, trapped in the bed together, and Loki could feel his eyelids closing.

He tasted the blood on his split lips, and wondered how long it would take before they would acknowledge that this was probably the most unhealthy development the two brothers could have taken.

And suddenly, Loki realized he didn't care. He wasn't sorry, not one bit, and he knew Thor wasn't either.

As long as he could sleep curled up in Thor's warmth, it didn't fucking matter.

And Thor would make him pancakes too. With extra blueberries.


	5. Serenity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events from previous chapter, seen through Thor's perspective

Sif tilts her head as she stares at Thor. "I bet he will."

"I bet he won't," declares Thor immediately. He folds his arms and looks past her. "He's very sweet and good and he listens to me and won't let you."

"If I kiss him, he'll kiss me," argues Sif, and before Thor can stop her, she has walked up to Loki - little Loki, playing carefully with his chalks, drawing on the sidewalk a complicated pattern of ferns and boxes and cats - and she stoops and kisses him on the cheek.

Loki's eyes grow wide and he stares, and as Sif beams down at him to ask him for a kiss in return Thor sees the confusion set in on Loki's pretty white face. There is a slight wrinkle in Loki's nose, like he's about to cry or scream or- Thor realises he's running and hitting Sif before he even knows he's doing it, and Loki is screaming for real now for Mother. Mother comes out and pulls Thor off, sends him straight to his room and he goes, stomping angrily back.

Later he gets spanked, and it hurts, and he's hungry because he gets no dinner, but it's all worth it because afterwards, his favorite person in all the world in all the _universe_ comes into his room with bread rolls and an apple. Loki is quiet and snuggles close; Thor knows that his brother is scared, and he doesn't like breaking rules that Father sets, and that loki is convinced that there's a huge snake under Loki's bed. He remembers how his brother had hidden behind him at the zoo when they studied the huge boa constrictor in the snake house. He remembers Loki shivering as the reptile slithered across the enclosure with silent, smooth purpose.

So Thor is very happy when Loki prefers to sleep in the same bed, head tucked under his, them holding each other in silent affirmation that yes, Thor has hit a girl but it was for Loki; yes, Thor is stronger; yes, Thor will always protect Loki from what he doesn't like; and yes, a kiss from a brother and a mother and also a father doesn't have cooties.

 

Charles Xavier is a notorious flirt in Thor's school; there are rumors of him having been with almost all the interested boys in the swim team, and apparently he is now working down the list of interested boys in the tennis team. 

And now he is talking nineteen to the dozen with Loki.

Thor pays scant attention to the girl with him. He is more interested in Loki's smile and the way his hands move as he describes his latest discovery. Very probably Loki is sharing about his newfound love for Norse mythology, and by the way his fingers dance he is talking about Yggdrasil.

The girl finally gets that Thor is disinterested and wanders off. Thor turns to apologize, and by the time he looks back both Charles and Loki are gone.

Thor leaves the main room of the party - his father and Kurt are in the study, the kitchen is full of caterers, the lounge is already occupied with men bearing cigars and the silvery chime of young ladies - and Thor decides to try his luck upstairs. He finds the sliver of warm orange light coming from one of the rooms, so he heads over and peers in.

They are kissing, Loki awkwardly clutching Charles's shoulder and his face pink, but it is where Charles has placed his hand that makes Thor see red. 

"Loki!" he calls out and pulls Charles away from his darling brother. Loki's wrist is almost too thin in Thor's hand; Thor didn't realise how much larger he has grown in comparison until now. Charles has been tossed aside and he turns innocent blue eyes up to Thor, as though he hasn't been trying to sneak a hand up Loki's shirt.

"Don't touch him," he warns Charles. Loki protests and Thor snaps at him, before warning Charles again, "If I see you touch him again, I will throw you down the stairs personally. Don't ever touch him again."

"I didn't mean-"

Thor sees the tumbler of amber liquid and he  _knows_ , he fucking knows what Charles was planning, what he almost managed to do, and he kicks the whisky into the wall. Thor actually aimed for Charles's face.

"You brought my brother here with whiskey." Thor is staring into frightened, wide blue eyes now, Charles's pale complexion practically white. If Thor isn't holding onto Loki, he would have been strangling Charles. He keeps his hand tightly gripping Loki's forearm and hisses, "You're lucky I didn't break your goddamn back, Xavier. Stay away from my brother, you freak."

He sends Loki home, and when he turns around to join the party he sees Charles studying him calculatively. Thor doesn't pay him any heed and waits in the foyer for his father to conclude his business.

The younger boy comes up to Thor, all lanky limbs and gangly grace. Charles whispers, "If you fuck me once, I'll never talk to him again, or seek him out, and if he looks for me I'll ignore him. How about that?"

"What are you talking about?"

"A trade, Thor. Let me have a taste of your... rage, and then you can rest assured that I won't hassle your younger brother." Charles Xavier smiles like an angel and extends a hand. "They'll be some time yet, Thor. And I do rather  _like_ you angry." He tilts his head with its mop of wavy hair and peers with his brilliant sapphire eyes from under dark lashes. "If you need, I can also be so very apologetic while you _punish_ me."

Thor will hate himself afterwards, and he cannot bring himself to apologize to Loki even though he knows that Loki knows nothing about him and Charles. But Xavier keeps his word, and Thor doesn't hear from him again, especially after Kurt Marko's death.

 

 

Fandral is the one who alerts Thor that Tony Stark is back in town after California. Volstagg is the one who tells Thor that Tony is dating Loki. Hogun is the one whom Thor sends to keep an eye on the two to make sure neither of them (Tony) do anything rash (to Loki).

But it is Sif who informs Thor of the two of them sneaking into Tony's buddy's party, Loki obviously looking to get drunk, and Thor orders Hogun to drive them back and fuck all the traffic rules. They hurtle back home and Thor crashes through Loki's door just in the nick of time, because Loki is on his bed and they are  _naked-_

Thor doesn't even register what he is doing until Loki is grabbing at his arm, keeping him from smashing Tony's head in. 

"You'll kill him!" Loki screams at him, face blotchy and flushed with alcohol and adrenaline.

"That's the idea, yes," snarls Thor. He stares at Tony - _not broken enough, not yet, he is still breathing_ \- but his first rush of fury has passed and he is breathing now, calming breaths as his trainer tells him to take.

Thor is shocked when Loki sinks his fingers into Thor's muscles - Loki is trying to cause his brother pain? - and the younger man says quietly, "Leave, Thor. You've hurt him enough."

"No I haven't-" protests Thor, but Loki -  _Loki! -_ interrupts him.

"He's my boyfriend, fuck you! Get the hell away from him!" he yells and he lets go of Thor to check on Tony.

Thor releases the stool he is holding and grabs Loki before he can touch Tony again, before Tony's skin will even come into contact with Loki.

"You would threaten me over an outsider?" Thor asks in disbelief. He has difficulty understanding this and he holds Loki aside, trying desperately to see how his brother has changed, and suddenly Tony shifts with a groan. Thor releases Loki and shoves Tony up against the wall. Tony's eyes are wide with agony and that satisfies something deep inside Thor's heart. "Don't come here again. Get your clothes and get the fuck out of my house."

""He's hurt, he can't move," Loki says; he is crying for this waste of space, for this Tony Stark who has always been a waste of space. "Get out of my room, Thor, I'll get him to the hospital."

Thor yells for Hogun to come and get Tony to their doctor. Hogun will be discreet and then Thor can check on Loki. Loki who is so different from who he used to be - Loki who is in tears for another man, for someone who has tried to lay claim to Loki - Thor needs to check on Loki.

By the time Tony has been led out of the house, Loki is still shivering with conflicting emotions and he loses control. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he shrieks at Thor. "How could you have done that?"

"Because he was about to take you from me," Thor responds. This is a simple truth. Can't Loki see it? "I will not have anyone take you from me, Loki."

"I don't belong to you!" Loki yells. "You - you always do this! Ever since Charles you've always done this! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Thor has no answer. He knows that he's keeping Loki for himself. He knows this, but he doesn't understand it. He doesn't want Loki being touched by other men - it's okay for Loki to play with them, to touch them, but they cannot touch him. They mustn't touch what belongs to Thor, and Loki is _Thor's_.

"I wish I didn't have you as a brother," Loki suddenly whispers, his voice soft and raw, and hearing that pisses Thor off more than witnessing Tony going down on Loki did.

This is a different kind of anger, Thor realizes, a chilly, detached one. He asks, "Do you truly? If you were not my brother, do you think you'll be happy?"

Loki glares at him with tear-brightened eyes, glittering like emeralds. "Better than this! Better than having you poke and pry and interfere every single fucking time I fall in love, better than having you threaten or actually injuring those that I want to date!"

"They aren't good enough for you!" Thor bellows back, keenly aware that no one in the universe is good enough for his little brother. 

"Then who is, Thor? Who is? We're not the model American family, in case you hadn't noticed!" Loki screams at Thor. He is beautiful like this, Thor thinks, all wild and uncontrolled and crazed and practically glowing with fury and madness and sorrow. "Who am I supposed to date, then, when you scare every single one of them off like this! Who am I supposed to love?"

Doesn't he know? Thor is surprised, and then he is determined. He shoves Loki back, because if Loki doesn't know by now whom he is to love, then Thor will show him. He barely uses all his strength to keep Loki pinned to the wall, devoted as he is to kissing the breath out of his younger brother.

Loki tastes like apples and cinnamon and mint and honey all rolled together, and Thor is instantly addicted. He is hard with desire and love, he knows, and he knows that Loki knows also, given the whine that escapes Loki's throat.

"No one can have you," Thor promises, and manhandles Loki to the bed, his weight pushing Loki down and their bodies meet, chests and abdomens and thighs, and Thor marvels at the perfection that is his brother. Loki's slender wrists are caged by one of Thor's hands and the younger male writhes, his lean muscles catching and displaying the light fantastically, and Thor wants to bury himself in his brother forever and never let go.

"I will not allow anyone to have you, Loki," breathes Thor, the promise turning into an avowal.

"Thor, brother, we can't- Brother, please, let go-" Loki's words fall like pearls and Thor drinks them in, sucks dark bruises into Loki's neck, roaming his free hand all over Loki's naked form and relishing every silky inch.

"No," Thor refuses to budge. His arousal is almost painful now; he _wants_ Loki. He needs to claim his own, now. "Has anyone taken you?"

He has to repeat his question because Loki has been lost to his own desire, the mess of sensation that Thor knows he is causing making Loki nearly-delirious. "No, oh gods, no, no," Loki cries when Thor bites his shoulder.

There is a relief almost orgiastic that floods Thor, and he slicks up his fingers. He prepares Loki thoroughly with his hand, and finally Loki's shuddering frame relaxed and pulsed around his fingers. Thor can feel his own mind turning slightly dizzy with anticipation and he grins down at Loki, swearing, "Mine. You'll always be mine."

And the slow, careful thrust into Loki makes Thor close his eyes, it is so good and right and perfect; this is where he belongs, buried and deep inside Loki, joined as one, they  _are_ one, they are not two and have never been two. Thor pushes in more, hearing Loki's breath hitch, and then he begins to move, edging Loki towards completion. he buries his face into Loki's neck, to inhale the organic sweetness of Loki's hair and taste the delightfully erotic saltiness of his skin. His brother clings increasingly tightly to him in a wild cascade of dark hair and half-sobs and tears and kisses even as Thor strokes Loki with one hand, support him with the other. Loki clenches and pulls Thor closer, closer, and finally the younger man grabs Thor with all his might on a shrill cry, his voice giving out midway, and Thor thinks he hears Loki scream his name.

Thor loses himself in Loki, his body taking on the rhythm even as all he can fathom is _Loki, Loki, brother, love, my love, forever, Loki, Loki, love, brother, love, mine, mine mine mine Loki_ and he comes, hard, spilling into Loki in a surfeit of bliss.

And later, as Loki curls into Thor's larger frame, Thor makes the decision to change schools to move closer, and to make love to Loki so much that his younger brother cannot even think of having another. Thor thinks he is the luckiest man in all the world in all the universe, and he kisses Loki's brow.

He'll make pancakes in the morning, with extra blueberries.


	6. Jack

"Your parents were killed."

Perhaps it is Heimdall's delivery, perhaps it is the bright, hazy Sunday morning, but neither Thor nor Loki quite grasp the concept when the words fell from Heimdall's lips. They stand in the kitchen, in their tees and shorts, still partly through navigating the instructions of a box of easy-make pancake mix.

It takes them time, a few breaths, an eternity of pure clarity, and then the pancake mix falls to the ground and Loki is the first to cover his mouth and cry. He folds into a ball, ending up on the tiled floor and rocking himself to control his weeping.

Thor just stares, and breathes, heavy, lost, and it takes him almost all morning before he can speak a word.

"Who?" is the first thing Thor asks.

"A new group over in the East Sunset quarter. Calls themselves the Giants."

"How?" demands Loki, and it is only Thor who understands that Loki is asking, How do we _make them pay_.

 

Loki is barely eighteen then, and Thor just twenty-one. They bury their parents, and in their sorrow they don't forget that they are together, and on this day no one cares that they held hands while the coffins were lowered into the ground, nor does anyone care that Loki sleeps in Thor's room, and now they are alone in the big house so no one knows just how Thor pours out his grief into Loki, and how Loki wears out his heart's sorrow by losing himself in Thor's body.

Then grief is replaced by cold rage, and the brothers decide what needs to be done.

 

The very next week, they contact the leader. Laufey is huge, six feet five inches tall, and shaven, and speaks like he has never spoken English before.

Loki manages to charm the leader with promises of a collaboration, of merging, and of submitting. He dresses like a teenager, a thin tee shirt that clings well to his lean frame, a too-large checkered shirt over it, and fitting jeans, and revealing a little too much collarbone, and the leader of the group is more than willing to meet on neutral ground. 

Thor waits in the chosen garage, unarmed, and they talk. Thor listens to grandiose boasts and insincere apologies, of claims to be 'just doing business'. The leader's men range out, and there are five of them, tall and inked with blue lines around their thick forearms.

Laufey dwarfs even Thor when they shake hands.

There is Thor in the room, and Sif, and Loki. Sif is near the back door, Loki at the front, and there are guards facing them. The remaining three exit the garage to place themselves on the perimeter.

Loki lounges in a chair, eyes on his brother, and when Thor rubs the back of his neck Loki smiles and excuses himself to use the necessary. When he returns he knows that the Three will be taking out those on the outside, and woe betide them if they don't make clean, quiet kills.

Sif catches Loki's grin, and she ties her hair back. It gives the opposing guard a nice view of her rack, but more importantly it keeps her hair from being a hindrance.

Loki goes to Thor, slides a hand over his bicep, and then leans down for a whisper and to give Thor the chance to slip the hammer out from under his side of the table.

 

Laufey and his guards have guns, but Loki's knives are sharp and fast enough to take down the one at the door before he even draws his weapon. Sif takes down her opponent with a screwdriver snatched up from the worktop driven into his eye, and Laufey is trapped inside the garage. The Three walk in, Fandral wiping his hands fastidiously as Volstagg lowers the garage door, and Thor hefts the hammer experimentally.

Laufey fires the gun wildly, but a tackle from Hogun disarms him. Then Fandral's booted foot lands on Laufey's right wrist, cracking it, while Hogun does the same to his left wrist, before Volstagg joins in the fun with Laufey's ankles.

Loki hops onto the worktop to watch, dark eyes glittering, and his fingers tug at the borrowed checkered shirt. Thor snags a kiss from him before he walks over to the prone Laufey, and then he signals for the Three to place Laufey on his chair. They pop his shoulders, just for good measure.

"It's just business," Thor says to Laufey with a broad smile that does not reach his eyes, and the hammer swings.

It doesn't stop swinging until there is nothing remaining of Laufey's face to identify him.

Then they go home, where Loki prepares dinner for everyone, and they watch a movie from Clint Eastwood.

 

And if that hammer remains one of Thor's favorite interrogation tools, no one talks about it.


	7. Rings

Not long after their parents died, Thor and Loki's relationship became obvious to all who knew them, and of those who opposed it Heimdall was the only one who dared to say it to their faces.

"I was charged with looking after both of you," he had said sadly one evening when he came into the house and found them curled up together on the sofa, half-naked and more than half-drunk. "This would have broken their hearts. This is wrong."

"Heimdall, they're dead," Loki had countered sourly, pulling on his shirt. "They can't feel a fucking thing."

That callous remark led to Heimdall punching Loki, which led to Thor hitting Heimdall, which led to Loki pulling a gun and shooting Heimdall in the chest, and that eventually led to Loki fleeing the scene in wild fear that he had accidentally killed his father's most loyal lieutenant.

 

It also led to Loki finding himself in Southern California with Tony Stark, who had not forgotten Thor's assault but was willing to let Loki work off the debt. 

Then again, Tony was always willing to forgive a pretty face.

 

So Thor did time for something he did not do, but neither Heimdall nor Thor ever told the truth. It was a short sentence anyway, the city being what it was, and Thor's reputation grew with his prison stint. When he came out, he had secured the loyalties of a dozen men who were due to be released soon, and he had his three and he had Sif.

Dead Laufey's gang which had taken advantage of Thor's absence had taken over some of Odin's old grounds, but the Giants with no leader soon fell before the Sons of Odin - Thor's new name for his people. Heimdall left the city, one arm forever maimed by a shattered elbow ("a freak accident", he told the doctors who treated him, but no one could swing a sledgehammer into their own elbow).

It took Thor another three years to break the various gangs' strongholds, and then to replace the District Attorney with someone of his own choosing. He then took over the city slowly: his money helped to elect government officials, his wrath helped checked the excesses of his people, his charisma won the hearts of the citizens with funding for schools or other civic necessities. The money came from other sources; Thor's hands were never clean for more than a month.

Eventually he made it into the city council. Just a junior member, not important enough to raise the suspicion of any federal agent, but his presence reminded the city's leaders to whom they owe a great deal to.

When his control was secure, he wrote a letter.

Then he waited.

 

"You have a letter," Tony tells Loki one autumn evening after they have come back from Stark's latest demonstrations in Iraq.

There is a letter, indeed, and when Loki opens it much later that night after an energetic roll in the sheets he smiles, and then he cries so hard that Tony almost calls Pepper for help with Loki.

 

Two days later Thor finds himself a new apartment in a nice neighborhood, very well-protected, and finds another because he knows his brother will need it.

 

Loki comes back to the city and he shakes his head with disbelief. It is different, vastly so, and the city no longer knows him after six years.

Thor remembers, though, and he brings Loki to the apartment he selected specially for him.

"You are amazing," Loki tells Thor after a breathless kiss or ten. "You are incredible and amazing and I love you."

"I know." 

"I missed you."

"You never wrote."

"...Are you angry with me?"

"Yes, Loki. I am angry," Thor tells his brother. He tugged the slender man into his arms tightly. "I am very angry, Loki, at your leaving me. And you will pay for what you've done." He presses his mouth close to Loki's ear and whispers, "You will pay for it with the rest of your life, brother."


	8. Treaty

"I need Banner."

"Sorry?" Thor stretches languidly and scratches his neck, still half-asleep. "Loki, where did you throw my shirt?"

"Your shirt is on the sofa in the living room, and I need Bruce Banner to go with me to New York right now." Loki grabs the article and tosses it at him. He is already dressed, jeans and an oversized tee that makes him look years younger than he is, and his phone is clutched in his hand. "Thor. Where the fuck is Banner? I need him to come with me to New York."

"He's probably at home-'

"He's not answering my calls."

"Then he's at the General." Thor comes over and kisses Loki's brow. "What's wrong?"

"Tony is dying. I need Banner." Loki has a bag by the door and he waits. He sees the way Thor is staring and he snarls, "Don't even try telling me that I can't go. It's  _Tony_. I must be there, so get me Bruce Banner right now."

"What happened to him?"

"Car bomb. Shrapnel. Heart. That's all I got from Pepper." Loki throws on a leather jacket with studs, changes his mind, and pulls on a cream-colored coat instead. "I'm going to the airport. Call Banner, get him there, we'll take the first flight out."

Without waiting for Thor to consent, Loki ran out the door.

 

 

Banner turns up. They make it, and Banner makes a decision to provide a constant source of power to keep shrapnel from slicing into Tony's damaged heart.

Loki has no idea what that means. He doesn't give a fuck, as long as it keeps Tony alive.

 

 

When Tony wakes up, he sees Loki and Banner hovering about him. Pepper is right beside his bed, holding his hand, and Loki reaches up to caress his cheek.

"Loki," croaks Tony.

For a split second, Pepper freezes, and then she smiles at the other two men. "I'll go talk to them about increasing the security."

"I should-" Banner makes as if to step out.

"Bruce, wait outside please." Loki hasn't taken his eyes from Tony Stark. Banner nods assent and exits gracefully with the redheaded woman.

When it is just Loki and Tony, the two hold hands and Loki feels tears spring to his eyes. He touches Tony's lacerated cheek over the bandage; he sniffs apologetically.

Tony attempts to smile. "Loki, babe, please. I'm still gorgeous. The bomb missed my face."

"Screw you, Tony." Loki allows himself to cry and he grips Tony's cold hands. "What the hell, Tony? What happened?"

"Obie. Car bomb. Thankfully I chose the Lamborghini over the Maserati, else you're here for a funeral."

"Obadiah?" 

"Yeah. Had to be him." Tony's eyelids flutter. "I just kicked him out. He's been... dealing. Dealing with insurgents. Without my knowledge."

Loki pats Tony's hand and tells him to rest. "Take care, Tony. I'm here. I'll watch over you."

"I'm somewhat reassured." Tony's grin is less bright than it used to be. "Gods, Loki. It could've been my last day alive, and the last thing I did was argue with Pepper. I don't even... What am I gonna say to her?"

Loki kisses Tony on the forehead and whispers, "Tell her 'Sorry, the next time we argue I'm not going to get myself almost killed.' Then you tell her that you love her, and that you'll make sure something like this won't happen again, and then I'll get Banner to come in and tell you some medical stuff before we let you go back to sleep."

 

After Tony finally drifts off to sleep, Bruce Banner asks Pepper to show him something called an arc reactor, whatever that is, and Loki stays in the hospital in case Obadiah attempts something else. He also places a call to Thor that evening as he settles on the couch in Tony's suite.

_"Loki?"_

"Thor. He's pulled through." 

_"Can't say I'm happy to hear that."_

Though Thor isn't there to see it, Loki rolls his eyes. "Grow up. He's a good friend."

_"Who slept with you."_

_"_ You weren't available."

_"I was in_ prison _, Loki, remember?"_

"I do remember, Thor." Loki smiles softly and closes his eyes. "I'm going to need some of my people over here."

Thor isn't pleased to hear that. _"Why?"_

"A complication I wish to remove." When Loki opens his eyes, they are glittering and hard with intent. "Send me Fenrir, Barton, Natasha and Sleipnir."

Thor snorts dismissively. _"Four?"_

"There will be jobs for all of them, brother mine." Loki glances over at Tony, and his gaze narrows. "In fact, I might just have Natasha and Barton posted permanently in New York."

_"You found them,"_ says Thor quietly. _"They're yours to allocate."_

Loki relaxes into the cushions, knowing that while he cannot carry his gun in this hospital, he has his new ceramic steak knives that he has just bought. Tony is sleeping peacefully, the chemicals coursing through his bloodstream keeping him sedated. Banner is in Tony's workshop, modifying a device to replace the thingy he installed in Tony's chest. Loki can hear it humming and whirring, a clunky machine, and he has no doubt that if Tony has the designing of it he will make a better, sleeker one.

A shadow passes by the door and Loki slides soundlessly to his feet. A knife is unsheathed and gripped perfectly in his hand; Loki finds his best spot and waits. 

The door opens.

The knife flies straight and shatters the glass, missing the intruder's nose by half an inch. He doesn't cry out or make any noise, but runs.

Loki doesn't follow. He knows who it is now that wants Tony dead.

No matter: Stane will die anyway. Loki does not like to leave enemies behind him.

 

 

The headlines scream "Stark Industries Under Siege". The attempted murder of Tony Stark and the actual murder of Obadiah Stane take up a week of headlines.

Natasha isn't too pleased that she's on protection detail; Barton likes being in NYC enough to be employed into Stark Industries. 

 

 

Thor meets Loki at the airport with a bright smile and a hug.

Loki puts up with the affectionate display, but when they get to the car Thor is surprised that Sleipnir has come to pick up Loki. "You know I'd come to pick you up."

"I knew," says Loki, and passes his luggage to Sleipnir. "I also know that you set the bomb in Tony's car. What I don't know is how or why you collaborated with Obadiah Stane."

Thor's sunny expression darkens instantly. He steps close and murmurs, "You have no proof."

"Baldur made a mistake," Loki hisses back. "And he listens only to you, Thor. I'm moving out. Every time you cross me in my work, I will have one of the Sons of Odin killed. But in exchange for the help Banner gave, I'll meet you every Thursday, and you can do whatever you want to me on Thursdays."

"Loki-"

"No, Thor. Killing my friends isn't acceptable at all." Loki's smile is terriifyingly pleasant. "I won't be helping you run the Sons of Odin any more, Thor. I owe you for the time you spent in jail, and for the apartment, but other than that... Don't even come near me."

Thor is stunned. "You... for him?"

"Natasha is mine. So is Barton. They obey me." Loki runs a finger along Thor's jaw. "Yes, Thor, for him. Because I don't have many friends, and he is very important."

"I'm your brother!"

"That's why you will always be able to leave word for me at Ragnarok." Loki presses a cold kiss to Thor's lips and whispers, "See you around, Thor."


	9. Have a Little Sunshine

After school, Loki comes home with a box clutched carefully in his hands. Thor, who is waiting in the kitchen for his snack, waves to his little brother.

"What is in the box?" asks Frigga, passing Thor a BLT sandwich. The boy grows taller daily, she thinks fondly. Thor doesn't wait to find out the contents of the box but runs out to meet his friends, who are waiting on their bicycles.

For a moment Loki gazes after his sixth-grade brother longingly. Ever since Thor entered the new class, Loki hasn't been playing with his older brother. Thor's friends say Loki is too babyish and slow, and while sometimes Thor sticks up for Loki, more often Thor's friends say it behind Thor's back and Loki knows about them being all sarcastic, so he stays away. 

At least Frigga has more time for him anyway. She heats up the waffles she made earlier that day and gives them to her younger son, who, in her opinion, needs to eat more, given how thin he perpetually is.

"It's just something we made in Miss Greene's art class." Loki is blushing. "We made mugs and she brought it to her friend and fired the mugs and she gave them back to us in little gift boxes and she tells us to give to our bestest friends in the whole world."

Frigga smiles and ruffles her younger son's dark hair. "Have you seen it? Who did you make it for?"

"No, I haven't seen it," says Loki, blushing even more. "I made it for Thor. It's got his name on it and everything. I want him to open it because... um. Miss Greene wrapped it real nice and I can't do the same. Plus it's his birthday soon and I dunno what I can buy him so I got him this instead."

"I'm sure he'll love your present, Loki." Frigga kisses her younger son on his forehead.

 

That weekend, Thor holds a small party and every one of his friends are invited. Loki sits in a corner of the living room, listening to the boys shout as they play video games and some of the girls are giggling and dancing to some pop group Loki thinks is stupid and silly. But Thor is grinning and laughing, even when he loses the games, and Loki smiles to see his brother so cheerful.

"All right, cake, and then presents!" Frigga calls out. There is a rush of kids to the dining room and Loki trails behind them all.

Thor is seated at the head of the table - their father is off to one side, smiling indulgently at his son - and there is a huge cake in the shape of a football. 

"Awesome!" exclaims Thor. Then he peers at his mother. "You don't have to sing the birthday song, do you?"

Frigga mock-glares at her son. "Of course we do. Ready? One, two, three."

All of Thor's friends sing the song, but Loki feels tongue-tied and embarrassed. Thor is grinning around with a faint flush on his cheeks, as though he is surprised to be here in the spotlight, but Loki can tell that Thor is happy all the same. Then the candles are blown out, the cake is cut and served, and Loki enjoys the slice of chocolate cake greatly even though Thor smears some icing on Loki's nose.

When it is time to open the presents, Loki feels nervous and hides near Frigga. He watches Thor opens the gifts one by one - he is popular, so he has lots of presents to open - and with each one, there are loud 'oohs' and 'aahs'. A new game console from his parents take pride of place, while Hogun has given him a new football helmet, Volstagg and Fandral chipped in for a bicycle repair kit, and Sif has bought him a very nice red-and-gray shirt. His other presents included a Nerf gun, a couple of movies, and Darcy and Jane together have bought Thor a new watch. 

By now Loki wants to run back to his room, because Thor is opening the box that Miss Greene wrapped for Loki. Loki has written THOR on the box with a thick black marker. The box is opened and Thor peers into it. Loki hides his face into Frigga's white blouse when he takes it out.

"It's a mug," Thor says, as though surprised. "With my name on it."

Instead of the admiring sounds with the earlier presents, Loki hears jeering laughter from Thor's friends. His face turn beet red and his hands grow cold as he stands there, trying to be invisible behind Frigga.

"Are you sure it's your name?" asks Fandral with a chortle. "It looks more like T-A-O-K on the mug!"

"It's all wonky," remarks a girl. "Look, the handle's too thin."

Another girl agreed. "And the colors! Purple _and_ orange _and_ yellow, yuck. It's so hideous!"

Loki doesn't wait to hear more. Before Frigga can stop him, Loki runs to his room, closing and locking the door behind him, and throws himself onto his bed and cries and cries and cries until he feels quite sick, and then he cries a little more before he falls asleep, wishing he had smashed the ugly thing the moment he got it back from Miss Greene.

 

Much later, someone knocks at his door and Loki jerks awake.

He goes and opens it, forgetting why it was locked in the first place, and it's Thor outside with a tray of food for Loki.

"The party's over and I thought you might be hungry and we have cake and ice cream left over, so here's some more," says Thor with a bright smile and a dark red bruise on his right cheek. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," says Loki. 

They sit at the study desk. Loki looks down at the soup and bread and he feels bad that Thor has to be nice even though he just got such a terrible, ugly gift from Loki. The younger boy says, "Sorry, Thor, I'll save up and buy you a nice present."

"What for?" asks Thor. "I like the mug. Thanks for giving it to me, Loki."

"It's ugly," Loki protests.

Thor shrugs. "I like it because you made it for me. Anyway, they don't know what they're talking about."

Loki picks up the bread and tears it up into small pieces. "Um. Thor? What happened to your face?"

"This?" Thor fingers the bruise and winces. "I punched Fandral, and he punched me back, and I hit him until he apologized for what he said about the mug, and then I told Lisa and Derysa that I'm never gonna talk to them again because they're dumb. And guess what?"

Loki is already dumbstruck by the issue of Thor fighting with his friend in front of their father. "What?"

"Dad didn't even punish me. He told everyone off for laughing at your gift. What did he say now..." Thor's brow wrinkles with the effort of thought. "Ah. Dad said like, gifts from a sincere heart is better than gifts bought from a full wallet. Or something like that. But I'm glad you made it for me, because Mom said you made it for your bestest friend, and that means I'm your bestest friend, amirite?"

Loki smiles broadly and his heart warms. "Yeah. Even if your friends are jerks sometimes. But you're nice. So happy birthday, Thor."

"Thanks." Thor stands up with the tray and asks, "Are you gonna eat the cake?"

"Um, I don't think so- HEY!" 

Thor laughs and runs out the door, leaving Loki trying not to let the remnants of the cake fall from his face onto the carpet. Loki grins after Thor makes his escape, and starts plotting how to put salt into Thor's milk the next morning without his brother realizing the prank.


	10. Mistletoe

Baldur is sitting, but he might as well have been kneeling at the edge of a cliff.

Thor is standing by the window, and when the sunlight bathes him in gold, he is gilded like a statue of a god. A stern, unsmiling god, whose wrath is building with every passing moment, and Baldur prays that whatever it is he's about to face, it will be short and as painless as possible. 

"I asked you to contact Obadiah Stane to renegotiate the use of our ports for his shipments," Thor says, his voice a deeper rumble than usual. "How much did he pay you to assassinate Tony Stark?"

"Sir-"

"All the Sons of Odin call me Thor."

"Thor-"

"-except those who have disappointed me."

Baldur shuts his eyes and inhales a precious breath. "Sir, Stane said that Tony Stark had just found out about the shipments and was about to report to the commissioners.If we didn't take him out, we would all have been implicated."

"You had access to his garage."

"Yes, sir."

"And you planted a bomb in one of his cars."

"Yes, sir." Baldur wants to grovel, to beg for his life, but he dares not move an inch from his seat.

Thor turns around and walks over to Baldur. His large hands position themselves on the arms of the chair Baldur is in, and he leans down, his forehead almost touching Baldur's sweat-slicked one. "If you had access, what made you stop at only  _one_ car, Baldur?"

The man has nothing to say. He is shaking, his limbs cold, and he cannot look away from the icy, brilliant blue eyes of Thor. He tries to explain but his teeth chatter; his breath is shallow and he knows he has to say something now. It is not the same Thor that he knows from summer barbecues, from the football games at the Boys' Home, from their weekly chats and walkarounds downtown. This Thor is the one who unified all of Asgard under his control, who kills with a hammer, who walks in both sunlight and shadows without fear of retribution.

"If you decided - without consulting me - to kill Stark, you shouldn't have come back without finishing the job," Thor murmurs, his voice low and warm and  _wrong_ , with his eyes cold blue sapphires that holds none of his usual friendliness.

Baldur finally finds his tongue. "I-I saw Loki and I thought he came on your orders-"

"Loki comes and goes without anyone's order," snarls Thor. "But you let him see you. Which means there is no way you can make amends, Baldur, because Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov will make mincemeat out of you. You're good at following my orders. _They're trained in anticipating his._ " The large, blond man smiles humorlessly. "I do like you, Baldur. You've been exceedingly loyal and I admire that. But you have disappointed me, and I hate being disappointed."

"I-I'm sorry, Thor, sir, I'm terribly sorry, I beg you, please-"

"Relax, Baldur, I'm not going to kill you." Thor grins and helps Baldur out of the chair. "It's Christmas."

Baldur is still clammy with cold sweat all down the back of his shirt. He stammers a thank you and follows Thor out the room. They come to the main door and Thor even helps Baldur put on a scarf. 

"Oh. Look. Mistletoe." Thor points up and Baldur's gaze automatically follows the direction. Then Baldur feels Thor's arms wrap about him and he closes his eyes.

The hug is affectionately tight, and then uncomfortably tight, and Baldur bites back the cry when he hears the crack of the bone.

Thor keeps him in the embrace a little longer and whispers, "Rest well, Baldur. I wouldn't want you missing out on our next Christmas gathering." He presses a kiss to Baldur's forehead, lets go of him, and watches him crumple to the tiled floor trying not to scream, watches tears and snot gush out of the younger man as though Baldur is just a kid. Then Thor waves to someone in the shadows: two men emerge and drag Baldur down the stone path.

Closing the door, Thor goes to the kitchen and gets himself a beer. He can still hear the screams.

The phone rings and Thor smiles with pleasure when he sees who it is, picking it up immediately. "Hey. I wasn't expecting your call today."

"It's the holidays," says Loki. "I thought we ought to have dinner together."

"Sounds good."

"I'll meet you at Ragnarok, seven. Dress nice - no jeans."

Thor chuckles. "You like the way I look in jeans, admit it. I've caught you looking a few times already."

"I do, but I'm bringing you someplace nice," Loki reproaches, and after a pause he adds, "This is a truce, Thor. Nothing else changes."

Thor's smile falls and his gaze becomes a little sad. "I know. So... why dinner?"

He has to wait a minute or so before Loki answers, "No one should spend Christmas alone. Not when there is someone waiting for them."


	11. Family

"Sir, Mr Haig is in the office," Fenrir murmurs to his boss as the well-dressed man enters the restaurant.

Loki smiles like a fox as he dismisses Fenrir. "He can wait. get him a drink, perhaps. Tony, have a seat."

Tony Stark, still somewhat pallid from his time in the hospital, settles down. He nods at the charming server who has materialized out of nowhere to take their orders. "What's your name, darling?"

"I'm Amber, and though I am flattered, I'm not your darling," says the girl, and places the menus on both sides of the table. She waits for Loki to order before she turns to Tony, but all his attempts at flirting fall down the drain. "Will that be all, sirs?"

"White wine for both of us," says Loki, carefully placing his napkin. "Something light. And, uh, go easy on the sauce."

"Yes sir." She trots away briskly and out the VIP room.

Loki steeples his fingers together. "I wasn't expecting you to be flying so soon. How's things back east?"

"Perfectly well, as you should know." Tony is still his usual Smug-Bastard handsome, but there is a reigned-in anger in his eyes. "And I think you also know that your brother tried to kill me."

"I've dealt with that."

"Yes, by setting two watchdogs on me," retorts Tony. "You really think I won't find out about Barton or Romanov?"

"Natasha won't like being called a watchdog..." Loki ponders aloud, and adds, "though she might like being called a falcon. Clint is there for the job; you needed a new guy anyway, the old one was embezzling, and Natasha is more than capable of holding her own in both her capacities as your personal assistant's personal assistant and your bodyguard."

Tony narrows his eyes. "And Bruce?"

"Bruce isn't mine to order around; he belongs to himself."

"You're saying that Barton and Romanov are yours then?"

Loki shrugs. "That's the truth. Ah, food's here."

Tony exhales. "Where did they come from, Loki? And don't tell me that you can't tell me, because I think I'm owed that much and fuck if I'm going to leave my security to people I don't know."

Fondly exasperated, Loki rolls his expressive green eyes. "I met Clint before my parents' deaths. He was in juvie then, a couple years my senior, and a nephew to one of Father's old lieutenants. We drove me around a couple times, got us liquor - I was underaged then - and well, got drunk together a few times. Then some total bitch-ass cop tried to pin a child rape on him, and he had no alibi at that time since he was running something for Father. They were all ready to let him take the fall, because... well, he was a kid. I got into the fray, testified that we were actually in my house doing weed, which was why I took so long to come forward. The cops believed me, cut us some slack for minors, and Father got his lawyer dogs in on the action to keep my name off the records, and his name as well. Clint figures he owes me."

"To the point of going where you order him to?" asks Tony with some skepticism. "Do what you want him to do?"

"If he had been convicted of child rape, he wouldn't have made it out alive from prison," Loki informs Tony evenly. "Besides, I also found him the cop that wanted to frame him, and the guy who did the crime. He... had some fun, really, and he knows that I have some very juicy dirt on him."

Tony shifts, looking slightly uncomfortable with Loki's calm insinuations. "And Romanov?"

"Her parents died just after she was born; she was kidnapped to Moscow when she was a child. Raised and trained by KGB, even if it isn't called by that name anymore, and became their spy." Loki catches Tony's eye and then laughs. "All right, nothing like that. Russian mob. Tried to gain a foothold in Asgard, but Thor mowed them down. She escaped and almost managed to assassinate Thor. Twice. Stopped her both times."

"And you let her live?"

"She's good at what she does," Loki says dismissively. "And she has yet to beat me in a fight."

"What?"

"That's the arrangement. If she can beat me in a fair fight, she gets a crack at Thor," Loki says. "Ooh. Dessert."

Tony shakes his head. "I will never be able to understand you. Or Thor, for that matter." Then he lowers his voice and leans across the table. "Are you two...well. You two doing the nasty?"

"We are."

"Wow." Tony leans back in his chair and huffs out a breath. "I... I never know what to say to that. I mean, sure, you hear stuff and then you kinda see things in the world but you-you two are just. I don't even have a word?"

"Twisted," supplies Loki. He gestures to Amber. "Give Hela my compliments, Amber. Superb meal."

"Is Hela the chef? Could I meet her? The food was great," Tony enthuses sincerely.

Amber looks at Loki for approval; the slim man nods. "Ask Hela to come out, please."

When Amber had again left, Loki whispers out of the corner of his mouth. "Big fat liar. You barely tasted a thing."

"I can't thank a woman for preparing me a meal? Geez."

Hela comes out, a slender young lady, and Tony is stunned. She is beautiful - not just pretty, but really beautiful - on the right side of her face; the left is a mess of melted skin and scars.

"Mr Loki," says Hela pleasantly. Her enunciation is slightly slurred but the joy in her good eye is obvious. "You really liked the salmon?"

"Fresh and juicy and absolutely wonderful. You've outdone yourself. New recipe?" 

"Yes, sir, one my grannie taught me when I was a child." She smiles and then bows shyly at Tony. "Good evening, Mr Stark. I assume you did like your food?"

"It was good," Tony stammers, and then Hela smiles again, as though understanding why he lost his train of thought. Vainly Tony struggles for a compliment to give, but all he can think about is the horror and the grace both etched on that lovely face, and he says nothing more.

Hela excuses herself and leaves, and Loki leads Tony down the stairs to the club. 

"What happened to her?" Tony asks Loki.

"Jealous boyfriend," says Loki nonchalantly. "Acid tossed at her when she was coming home from a photoshoot. She was on the cusp of being discovered when that bastard stopped her career from taking off. We needed a cook and she was a pretty good one; I had chefs fly in to train her and now she runs the restaurant."

"I did wonder why it was called Hel's Kitchen."

"Not a mere pun, darling."

The club is noisy and crowded. Music, distorted and heavy, pumps out of large speakers. Loki weaves his way through the crowd and passes by Fenrir, who is circling the floor slowly. 

"He was my bouncer, actually," Loki yells to Tony. "But he's much better as a personal guard. No questions asked, and very loyal. Just because I saved his pitbulls from being put down."

"That's nice!"

Loki points to a sharply-dressed bald man with a sharp chin and quick, assessing eyes. "That's Jorge. Club manager, keeps tabs on everyone who comes into Ragnarok for business. Nothing happens without him knowing about it."

Jorge must have seen Loki, because he comes over and leads the two men into the back, where the volume is dampened once the heavy doors are closed. There is another man in the room, his clothes ill-fitting and his eyes wild with fear when he sees Loki.

"This is Haig," says Jorge, in a curiously breathy voice. "Sleipnir brought him. Says you wanted to meet with him."

"Ah. Yes. The new journalist at the Asgard Tribune. Sleipnir, if you could escort Mr Stark back to the apartment? I have some private business to discuss-"

"-no, don't leave me here alone with him!" the man called Haig suddenly runs up to Tony and clutches at his sleeves. "Take me with you, please, I can't stay here, he'll _kill_ me!"

Tony stares at the begging man and then at Loki, uneasiness spreading throughout his body. "Are you going to?"

"I won't kill him, Tony, I promise. I just want to discuss an article he's written. We're not even going to beat him up," Loki says with a assuring smile.

Since he is in Asgard, Tony knows that he will never be able to save Haig, but Loki doesn't break promises that easily. He agrees to leave with Sleipnir - not that he has much of a choice, not here in Ragnarok, Loki's own turf - and he thinks that perhaps he ought to cut the ties with Loki as soon as he can. But he needs the names of those who collaborated with Obadiah, and only Loki can give him the names, and maybe even the locations, or the organizers.

Except for Thor. Tony knows that Thor is involved, but he will never be able to get Thor. He's smart enough to know that Romanov and Barton aren't really there for his protection; Loki is protecting his brother, even now, and Tony will be a corpse should he try to test Loki's possessiveness.

 

 

"Mr Haig. Your editor has told you that we are on the list of 'Do Not Mention', right?" Loki inquires. A single malt whisky sits on the counter behind him.

Haig is in his own chair. "Yes."

"And yet you want to push for that story about Asgard to be published. You even sent manuscripts to the major magazines and newspapers outside of Asgard." Loki drinks his whisky. Then he frowns. "I must say that I admire your journalistic integrity. After all, even the one-million-dollar check did nothing to deter you."

"You've got a lot to hide, and to pay me that much means that you really need to hide everything." Haig has calmed down from his outburst earlier, or maybe he feels more reassured that Loki has no intention of assaulting or killing him.

"Yes, I do. That is why everything you've sent out about that story has been erased and destroyed." Loki now stands and stares at Haig. His gaze is so serene and focused that it unnerves Haig. The slender, dark-haired man walks closer and circles behind Haig's chair. "I belong to the shadows. My name is to be whispered among the citizens, not splashed across the pages. And your article would have hurt Thor's reputation... and I cannot have that happening."

"So it's true," whispers Haig, shivering now, "you and your brother are committing incest."

"Oh yes," answers Loki easily. "It's so very taboo, isn't it? Such a huge scandal, right under your very nose, and you can't help digging it up, can you?"

Then a blindfold comes over his eyes and someone grabs his arms, ties them to the chair he's sitting on; his flailing legs are similarly caught and bound. Then the blindfold comes off and it's Loki with gloves on and a hypodermic needle.

"What's in that?" asks Haig, thoroughly terrified. "I warn you, there-there are people who know I'm here, they'll, gods, they'll call the police!"

"There is no police officer in this city that will come into Ragnarok without Thor's permission." Loki smiles, almost wistfully, and then clears the syringe of bubbles. "And I know who you think can help you. Newsflash, Haig:  _I have already had them in my grasp for the past three hours while you waited here for me._ " His smile fades and he carefully injects Haig with the medicine. "This is a muscle relaxant, but your nerves will still be operational. Not an anesthetic, in other words." 

"Wha... what are you doin' wi' me?" Haig's words slur as the drug courses through his body, sped up by adrenaline.

"Showing you why you should have taken the million." Loki nods at Jorge and Fenrir. "All I need you to do, is keep your eyes open, Mr Haig, and keep your mouth shut. Fenrir?"

"Here, sir."

A trolley is wheeled over. Haig's eyes widen.

Surgical tape.

Surgical needle.

Surgical thread.

"Wha..." Haig can't control his muscle movements any more; drool starts forming from his lower lip.

Loki smiles beatifically. "I happen to have meant the last sentence entirely literally."


	12. Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rewatched Sherlock recently so this is a small chapter that's borrowing Sherlock and Watson. As just friends. Because Watson's not actually gay.
> 
> Not that anyone believes that.

They enter the club that Sherlock found out about and look around curiously. John winces at the loud, monotonous beat that passes for music; god knows what Sherlock was seeing. The crowd is very mixed. Even John can tell that some of them are not frequent club-goers, not with their ill-fitting shirts or inappropriate footwear (his observational skills have been sharpened by proximity, even if they were developed in self-defence). Most of them are young and very good-looking.

"Sherlock!" John yells, tugging on the greatcoat's sleeve. "Who are we looking for again?"

Sherlock shifts to face John and there is a small smirk on his face as he leans in a little too close to the doctor's ear.

"They have found us," Sherlock replies, his deep rumble somehow not getting lost in the mindless noise of the club. "Don't speak at all, John, not even when they ask you questions."

John regards his tall friend incredulously. However, he knows better than to ask why. Sherlock has his reason.

A dark-haired man in a dark suit has come over. He is fairly broad about the shoulders and chest, a narrow waist, and there is a scar that runs across his Adam's apple that John notices, and wonders if his assumptions that this man used to be a swimmer and has been on the wrong side of a garrote are right. Possibly John is, but he will have to ask Sherlock how the man survived that.

"Please come with me," says the man.

Sherlock trails after immediately, no questions or protests. There are more questions in John's mind now, but he follows nonetheless.

  


  


Sherlock and John are ushered into an office with plush black carpeting and a plain steel and glass table, three chairs set in the center of the room facing each other (all look distinctly modern and uncomfortable), and one tall, slender man.

"Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, have a seat please." The man nodded at the person who ushered them in. "Thank you Jorge."

Jorge exits with a quick bow. John is startled by the absolute lack of external sound when the door closes fully, and doubly startled when Sherlock says nothing and plants himself in one of the chairs.

"Doctor? Please, do sit down." The stranger smiles, pleasant and chillingly sincere. He is very similar to Sherlock, John muses as he takes his place next to the detective. Tall, imposingly so; young-looking with a far too intelligent gaze; impeccable suit that seems to cut the air about him.

Sherlock settles and raises an eyebrow. "You have the advantage of us."

"So I do." The man sits, his ankles crossed, and tilts his head. "I doubt I have the advantage of you, actually. Your reputation has spread quite far, Mr Holmes. The spectacular takedown of a certain James Moriarty..." He smirks and hisses in breath. "Breathtaking."

"You're really pleased about that."

"He would have become a threat."

The detective cocks his head. John tenses - he knows the signs - but Sherlock surprises him again. "You want us here to make us an offer."

"One that you probably won't refuse." The stranger smiles again, and John is struck by how sinister it is by virtue of its apparent openness. The lean man adds, "Your brother is already contemplating sending in paid spies, but I can tell you now that it is not necessary. I can get you the documents by tomorrow evening."

"Without having copied them? I am not convinced. I'm here because it's a paid holiday, and this city is  _fascinating_ in its complexity."  Sherlock allows himself a smirk. "And you, you are quite the manipulator."

"I'm not evil though," laughs the other man. The humor disappears. "And I don't just manipulate, Mr Holmes. I determine what _happens_ in this city. So if I say I can get you the documents, without duplication, I can. And I can also make it very difficult for you to work here. In fact, I can kill both of you here and there will be no repercussions at all."

Sherlock also does not smile. "You've injured your left shoulder, probably from a fight you had earlier today. Large opponent, probably an amateur boxer - he clipped you just by the cheek, but you're fast. You've been awake for at least thirty hours - I would suppose you've been communicating with the persons who took the thumb drive - so I surmise that if you had been att your peak efficiency the shoulder injury wouldn't have happened. Yet you don't seem particularly bothered by your shoulder, therefore you probably will tweak that into an advantage, possibly in your negotiations for the documents Mycroft wants back." 

John raises both eyebrows.

The detective exhales and continues, "Since you make the claim that you control what happens in the city, the only person whom you have to negotiate with is one you consider your equal. And that, in itself, says a lot about your brother. He is obviously not just a junior council member, and from his name and the name of the gang I gather that he is as arrogant as you are, except he is more charismatic a leader while you prefer to gather a small, trusted group. Your office tells me that you like things simple, functional, unfussy, and dangerous. Everything in this room can be made into a weapon, except the carpeting, and even that can be rolled back to reveal the concrete floor below. There are blood stains on it - the smell never goes away, and you know that, which is why there is a cedarwood scent release on the desk - and you do not shy away from violence. He probably is very much the same, because conditioning and exposure would have moulded both of you along the same lines. You do dont seem perturbed yet by anything I have said... there's one more secret, isn't there? That is the key to why you can get to the documents, untouched. What is it?"

The stranger smiles. "Should I tell you? Spoil the surprise?"

"No." John draws both men's gaze, the stranger's one of curious amusement and Sherlock's one of exasperation. John breathes out. "If you can get us the documents, we will take it."  


"Doctor, you have yourself a deal." The man smooths the lapels of his suit jacket; John notices a telltale bulge of a gun. "Mr Holmes, thank you for the entertainment. I feel enlightened. Fenrir, my chauffeur, will escort you to your hotel. Ragnarok and its neighborhood are quite... unwelcoming to strangers, and I would rather not raise an international incident."

"We don't have a deal," snaps Sherlock. "I can get the documents without your assistance."

"You can," agrees the man as he stands up. "You can't leave the city with them though. You know of my brother's organization, but not its true scale. You know of my trusted circle, but not who they are. Both of the two exits of this room are guarded, and neither will allow you to step out without my personal escort, so you can choose to starve to death here, Mr Holmes, or you can have my help."

John intercedes before Sherlock can speak. "What's the trade?"

"Take the documents, leave."

"Sorry? What-"

"Your brother," says Sherlock. There is a manic grin now in the detective's face. "He doesn't know, does he? Of the import of the thumb drive stolen?"

The lean, dark-haired stranger quirks an eyebrow. "If he does, I will not have offered my help. But I have no wish to incite an international incident, and even less desire to have the federal government's eyes on this city. That is the deal. I will get you the thumb drive, and you leave."

"How far does your control go?"

"Only this city, but that is sufficient. I have no wish to rule a nation," says the stranger as though he is utterly confident of being able to achieve that if he wanted. John can believe that; there is a strange magnetism about the man, much like Sherlock's, a kind of more-ness that cannot be confined by the mere physical body. "Tomorrow, I will deliver it to your room at the Excelsior. 2201."

Sherlock narrows his eyes. "The hotel staff?"

"Most of them, yes." The man smiles. "Order room service, Mr Holmes. On me."

John wonders if Sherlock will continue being stubborn, but the detective pushes out of his chair and faces off against the man. "You are oddly protective of your brother."

"That is the secret, Mr Holmes." The stranger leads the way to the door and opens it. Jorge is standing outside, a hand on an unconcealed gun. Over the dull thunder of the music, John sees the stranger lean in to speak at Sherlock's ear. "Somewhere in the club is my chauffeur. Fenrir likes to run long-distance on his days off, has been injured in a knife fight three weeks ago, and indulges in a clandestine cigarette once a day. Have fun, Mr Holmes."

  


  


Sherlock does have fun. They head home twenty-five minutes later. John hasn't seen that level of enthusiasm in Sherlock since he returned, and he is both pleased and annoyed.

  


  


"What _is_ the secret?" muses Sherlock as he lies spread-eagle on the bed. 

John pokes his head out from the bathroom, toothbrush still stuck in his mouth. "Mft iff vart shcrt?"

"The secret, John! Why is he willing to give everything to us?"

John goes to spit and rinse, and emerge toweling his hair. "Who was he, anyway?"  


"Who?"

"The man we spoke to!"

"That was the elusive Loki Onsdag, John, I thought you knew."

John stares. "Onsdag? As in, the younger brother of Thor Onsdag?" He snorts. "Wow. The parents are quite the traditionalists, huh."

"Their parents are dead, John, gang-related murder ten years ago. That was also when the brothers became full-fledged criminals too." Off John's perplexed look, the detective rolls his eyes and explains, "The rival gang's leader was bludgeoned to death. No suspects." Sherlock rolls over and buries his face in the pillow and shouts something unintelligible into it, and then raises his head. "John! Why is he so determined to keep his brother from the documents?"

"Because he wants to protect his brother?"

"His brother, John, has a whole gang that permeates every level of society in this city. This isn't about protection, this is prevention. But why? Why, John? They don't even live together!" Sherlock rolls again and John wonders if the man will actually roll off the bed.

"You and Mycroft don't live together. I don't live together with Harry. Doesn't mean I won't try to keep her safe."

Sherlock casts the evil eye at John. "Mycroft can go piss himself."

"You're here on the other side of the Atlantic, taking on a gang that has, in your words,  _permeated every level of society in this city_ , and met with a legendary criminal mastermind who may as well be the Loch Ness monster on the scale of elusiveness, for the documents your brother asked youu to retrieve." John smirked. "Brothers, yeah."

"There is something more."

"More than brothers? Closer than family? I don't have a clue what that would be. You can dig around some more after we return to Baker Street, Sherlock. Now, I just want to sleep." John stares at Sherlock's suddenly rapt expression. "What now?"

"That's it, John, that's exactly it! You are  _amazing_." Sherlock grins and hops off the bed, his robe swirling as he sweeps into the bathroom.

If he didn't adore the bloke so much, John may just be a tad pissed off. "What is it now?"

"They are more than brothers, John, and that is the secret!" Sherlock shudders, his smile turning into a mild grimace. "People are certainly boringly deviant."

John shakes his head and claims a pillow before Sherlock completes his ablutions. He still can't understand the workings of that genius mind, and by God he is glad he can say that in the present tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason the full chapter wasn't posted, only my first saved version, so I rewrote it.


	13. Visitors II

"I want the thing your people stole," Loki said without preamble as he strolled into Thor's apartment.

Thor looked up from the newspaper. "The thing."

"Yes, Thor, the _thing_. It doesn't belong to us - which I'm not too concerned about, really - and it will bring a shitstorm on our heads, which does concern me." The dark-haired man leaned against the mantle and tugged off his scarf and tie, tossing them casually over the couch.  "They've sent over Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."

"Those names are supposed to mean something."

"Damn it, Thor!" Loki stormed up to his brother and ripped the papers from his hands. "This is serious, do you understand? You have in your hands something that concerns international security, and that is something beyond the scope of what we can handle. I can tame this city; _I can't tame the country!_ I don't want you risking yourself-"

Thor pulled Loki into his lap and kissed him quiet, his stubble leaving Loki's skin pink. "Hey. I am not risking myself, nor am I risking you. I just want to know who this Sherlock Holmes fella is, and why you are suddenly so worried. Calm down."

Loki shivered and leaned into the solid warmth of his older brother. "Holmes is a consulting detective. Remember the crazy guy a few years ago, James Moriarty? The one that promised to get our people into the FBI and CIA?"

"Kinda. He was creepy. Never thought I'd meet a man I'd want to punch more in five minutes," Thor replied, his free hand rubbing over Loki's abdomen. 

"Holmes took him down. Both Sherlock and his brother. And that thing that you're holding belongs to the older brother," Loki said, burrowing closer, "and as far as I know, Mycroft Holmes runs quite a bit of the show in jolly ol' England."

"Sounds like you."

"I'm merely a gangster who controls a city, Thor. Mycroft runs an empire." Loki smiled and kissed Thor. "I dread the idea of him turning to the dark side, though. He would take over the world if he wants to."

"But he sent his younger brother? How odd." Thor nuzzled Loki, inhaling the new cologne with delight. 

The younger man sighed and murmured, "Sherlock is more ruthless and reckless. He's willing to kill, and given his intellect, he would definitely hurt quite a few of our friends. He ripped apart Moriarty's contacts."

"You said he has a partner," said Thor. "Are they close?"

Loki pulled away slightly. "I don't think you want that, Thor. Sherlock faked his death and sacrificed his reputation to keep Doctor Watson safe, and I have it on good authority that the doctor is Sherlock's berserk button."

The older male cocked his head and considered the options. It sometimes escaped the others that Thor was a clever man too. Not on the same scale as Tony Stark or Loki or Sherlock, of course, but Thor was not stupid. "You are certain of his abilities?"

"He deduced that I had just taken care of George at the warehouses before meeting him, that I had injured my shoulder, and the reasons behind my choice of furnishings. I also noticed that he took the one seat that would protect his partner and grant him access to the second exit, that he had positioned himself such that he could throw the chair at me should I attempt anything overt, and he had secreted a short razor in the palm of his hand. He is as tall as I am, which means he has the reach of me. In addition, his partner, Watson, was alert to every move I made even though he didn't seem to be cognizant of it like Sherlock was."

Thor scowled. "You're hurt?"

Loki winced as Thor practically ripped his shirt apart, checking to see the bruises on fair skin. He liked that shirt, and it would be three hundred dollars for a replacement. Loki batted Thor's hands away and went on, "He saw that I had deliberately put myself in a vulnerable position, which probably led him to think that I was being sincere. Come on, Thor, give that thing to me so that I can sleep better."

Thor exhaled and pressed his brow to Loki's. They sat that way for a minute, before the blond man muttered, "I never wanted that in the first place. Sometimes they do things that I can't control."

"They just want to pay you tribute," drawled Loki affectionately. "What better than something that can help you conquer the western hemisphere?"

"You."

"I'm not tribute, brother mine," Loki teased.

Thor grinned. "No, you're my consort. The thumb drive is in the thrid drawer on the left in my study."

Loki wrinkled his nose. "Your consort? That makes you an emperor. I don't like the sound of that."

"Emperor Thor. I like it."

"Your ego is plenty big."

"It's as big as it should be, just like something else," Thor whispered lasciviously. "Which I would love to insert into its proper port."

Loki burst out laughing and clutched helplessly at Thor's broad shoulders. "That... that was the lamest come on I've ever heard, Thor. Seriously?"

Thor grinned more broadly and kissed his brother. "It made you laugh, and it made you relax. I don't mind being lame."

Loki laughed again and curled closer to his older brother. It was all good now, he thought with relief. They could get this thing out of their city and away from them, away from this idyllic sanctuary they had forged for themselves. It might be strange and wrong for Loki to love Thor this much this way, but he would fight to the death to keep things the way it was. 


	14. Break

There had been no hesitation. That was what struck Thor as being the ultimate betrayal. Loki had just come into Thor's apartment, stabbed him in the neck with some chemical, and dragged him into Ragnarok.

Now he stares at Loki, behind his desk in the club's soundproof office, and he wonders what has happened to change his brother.

Loki just stares back, fearless and proud as ever, and he plays with a switchblade.

"Why?"

"Why not?" Loki smiles coldly. He has no reason to fear, after all; Thor is incapacitated and tied to one of the steel chairs. The blond man is sore and bruised from earlier abuse; neither Jorge nor Sleipnir dared to pull their punches.

Now it is just the two of them, brother to brother, and Loki is like a stranger. 

The slender man stands and selects a switchblade, one of his own from days long past, and strolls over. He straddles his older brother's lap, grinding down with a fierce grin, and presses a firm kiss to Thor's mouth, before drawing back abruptly and punching him across the cheek. The edge trails carefully over his jaw. THor can feel the tingle of fear echoing into his spine.

Loki leans in. "Why?"

"Why what?" Thor breathes out.

This version of Loki is not one he ever encountered, and his instinct is screaming at him to run. He can't, of course; all his muscles tense when Loki's teeth nipped at his right earlobe, the sensual fragrance of his cologne making the threat almost arousing.

"Why weren't you satisfied, Thor?" Loki hisses. He bites, not too roughly, at the soft spot just below the ear and Thor yelps. "Why are you asking for more again? How far are you going with this? Am I not good enough, _brother?_ "

The switchblade flips and Loki digs it into Thor's thigh, just above the knee. Thor roars with the pain and struggles in vain; Loki uses his leverage to keep himself in Thor's lap. The knife pushes in a little deeper and Thor freezes.

"Why, Thor? Be satisfied, hmm? A small realm is all we need. You do not need more than this. Keep this city in control, and that is already more than enough for you. For us." Loki kisses Thor again, this time one the forehead. A benediction, a role reversal. "Do you understand me?"

Thor swallows and nods. "I get it. I'll stop running for - for commissioner."

"You'll be elected if you want. So why do you think I want you to stop?"

"Because... because then I would be under... be under the jurisdiction of the federal government - and you can't guaran-guarantee my safety then."

"That's right, brother. So what are you to do tomorrow?"

"Withdraw. Withdraw and st-stop my campaign." Sweat now pours off his brow; Loki is twisting the blade just a little.

"That's right. The wise thing is to stop," the younger male murmurs. It sends shivers down Thor's spine that Loki can still sound so caressing and gentle. "Learn the lesson, Thor. Just because I haven't harmed you before doesn't mean that I can't or that I won't."

"But this is-is a little extreme for just my political goals, isn't it?"

Loki chuckles darkly. "Ah yes. The lovely Ms Foster."

Thor tenses again, this time with apprehension. "Did you hurt her, Loki?"

"What would you do if I had?"

" _I will hurt you_."

With a laugh Loki climbs off Thor's lap and pulls out the switchblade. Thor grunts and holds his agony in. The little knife cuts through the plastic ties at his ankles and Loki stands in front of Thor, looking down at his older brother. He leans in close and flicks his clever tongue over Thor's lips.

"I broke all her fingers, Thor. Then I crushed her hands." Loki dances out of Thor's reach before the larger man can kick out in fury. The humor fades from Loki's pale face and now Thor sees his younger brother transformed into the sinister and deadly weapon he has become for Thor after all these years. "She touched you with those appendages. She's lucky you've been a gentleman and not slept with her, because I will _murder_ her in cold blood and _hang her filthy corpse_ in front of City Hall! I WILL NOT SHARE WHAT IS MINE!" His soft voice shifted to a roar.

Thor is breathing heavily, unable to form words.

Loki has more than enough for them both. His tone turns again into a tender, soothing murmur. "You claimed me when I was seventeen. You crossed that threshold and you CLAIMED me. You made me yours. But it goes both ways, brother; you are mine. _You. Are mine_. Sleep with whom you wish, but the second I know that you feel something for that person, he or she is dead." He licks his lips and then licks the blood off the switchblade. "A slow, painful death."

"You are my brother." Thor meets Loki's gaze. He then nods. "You are mine."

Loki agrees with a small smirk. "And you are mine, Thor. Always."

"Now get me some medical aid, fuck you."

"Bruce Banner is waiting, and I'll let you once you're all patched up."


	15. Jaguar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame Jaguar's new ad campaign.

"You what?"

"I bought a new car."

"No, I got that. The other part."

"I raced it."

"Against a helicopter. Whatever happened to keeping a low profile, Loki?"

"But the bass roar of that engine, Thor, it sends chills down my spine. Besides, what's the point of racing against another car?"

"A helicopter. A bloody  _helicopter_ flying mere feet over the main roads."

"Don't be so fucking dramatic, Thor. They were well over fifty feet above the ground."

"In a  _helicopter."_

"What do I have to do to stop you saying that?"

"I don't know. What do you think you'll have to do to stop the news station showing the footage of your city-wide race?"

"I do have blackmail material, brother dear. I was hoping you'd use your influence for an amiable solution, and let me sheathe my claws for better purposes. And it wasn't city-wide, it was just along the Main and down the River Cross."

"Dinner and a movie work for you?"

"It's not that easy, is it? What else?"

"Dinner and a movie and then I get to do whatever I want with you. And then you have to let Fenrir chauffeur you around. He's more sensible than you, I swear."

"Fine to the first bit and I'll consider the second."

"Loki..."

"Persuade me, brother dear. See you tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> Vexilla regis prodeunt inferni: The banners of the King of Hell advance  
> from Dante's _Inferno_


End file.
